The Fading Legend
Extra Story | The Fading Legend Pilfwe the Storyteller's introduction in, "The Renowned Hired Blade" performed at the inn of Mayrid in Barclay, 1256 "There 'as once a man known only as Zekar. Nobody knows a thing 'bout him 'cept that, for the right price, he can take a man's life in more ways than ten. Infamous thr'out the kingdom with a reputation that his job is as good as done as soon as the payment is received, merchants are not the only one who fear him but also nobles and monarchs. "It goes w'out saying that the people who feared for their lives do spent big sums of denars for more than a many times to end his life. The next time they met their paid contractors? Hah! At the front door of their havens, dead. It 'as widely known that the man is as mysterious as he gets as he seems to only kill at whims or contracts and never has been a predictable one. People would naturally expect the payors of his life to fall down unexpectedly one day but he never pulled a revenge on them. It 'as, then, a big puzzle for every man and woman who knows his name when he suddenly disappeared and w'out trace at that. Rumor has it that he was never seen again after completing a contract appro'mately two decades ago. They never knew what happened. Some says he was at long last killed but some says that he finally found redemption. ~ "They've sent some really troublesome fellows." A man is sprinting across the snowy forest hoping to get some distance from several unknown assailants. It was sudden. The assassins attacked without warning but they never did expect to find their target unsurprised. The man never let his guard down throughout his life as he knows that, someday, his past contractors will find out about his breach of contract several years ago and seek him once again. But this time, it's not for their usual topic. He was always prepared. He anticipated that assassins would come to kill him every single day and every single night. It was a tiring lifestyle but the recent events proved it was more than worth the troubles. He glanced back and saw no signs of his pursuers. "Ha! They approached me a little too perfect. The insects were uneased. "If I would've been more careful." Blood is oozing from a cut on his lower left side. One of the more skilled assassins anticipated his moves. It would have been a clean dodge, if he didn't underestimate his aggressors, or a clean hit, if he was rusty enough. Luckily he dodged it, his instincts of the past saved him somehow. He found a small cave, stayed inside for a while to patch his wound, and then clumsily covered it. Then he quickly ran back again stepping on his own tracks. As soon as the wind told him they're near, he made a quick turn and ran in another direction. He repeated leaving tracks all over the place several times. Finally, he stopped and jumped on a nearby tree. A few seconds later, he's at the top. He waited. The assassins followed the tracks and approached silently, but their impatience shows. "Hm? The plan went well." the man is carefully observing his assassins. "Four people? A man or two might be hiding." The man brought out a dagger. The moon would've been painted full in red if it wasn't a crescent one this night, for the assassins would soon realize they've wasted their one and only chance. As a person once said, there is a very thin line between an assailant and the victim. "Well then, I should write my son a letter after this." ~ "Another dead track! How many times did we find dead tracks by now?" one of the assassins said angrily, a man of short stature complimented by his broad shoulders and semi-bald head. "He is carefully and surely making his escape. He surely lived up to what the people were speaking about him." another one said as he examined the tracks. He is a tall and skinny one with a crossbow strapped on his body and steel bolts on his waist. There is a single woman among them. She wields a longsword in her left hand and wears the sheath on her right side. "We should narrow down the tracks." "It's hard to see which tracks are fresh and which are old, can't narrow them down without risking of missing the most recent tracks." The tall man said. "And there are no signs of blood in all of them." The fourth man said astonishingly. His face is stern with a long crooked nose red from the cold. He got a messy mustache and is holding a hafted blade. "How could he make these tracks this fast? We are moving fast enough. I wonder if one of the other groups found him already." "How could he even make such a large lead from us in the first place? When did he even split the tracks?" the short man asked impatiently. "This is bothering me. It is well known that he killed all the hired assassins who were sent after him. We shouldn't let out guard down. If these tracks still go on for some time now, there must be something going on." "Well, he is wounded. Maybe he's trying to escape because he can't kill us in his state. Or he might be already too old to keep his reputation." The woman said. "He aint human, I say. We were flawless yet he killed four of us as soon as he saw us. We've undertook a very dangerous contract." the crossbowman laughed. "No wonder they wasted too much denars on too many assassins." "They've been willing to pay high." the short man said. "And nothing is worth laughing here. We should be leaving." A man in green hood and cloak came out from behind the shadows of the trees. He had a long bow and quiver strapped in his body. "Hm? It's a dead track, go back to your post. We'll look for another lead." the woman told the man from the shadows. The hooded man nodded and the usual four began to walk. A minute later, the crossbowman fell down with an arrow in his back, piercing the heart accurately from behind. The other three instinctively prepared to fight. The man with the mustache ran for cover while the short man raised his shield as he jumped behind the woman blocking a second arrow just in the nick of time. The woman hastily proceeded to get the loaded crossbow from their dead acquaintance. She jerked it free then quickly aimed and fired from where the arrow came from. "How many? Is Xander a spy? Or is he already dead?" the woman asked several questions. "He's dead. Told them we needed two lookouts. Though, he might've killed both if there're two." the short man answered in contempt while he and the woman slowly walked backwards, shield up. "We should flee and regroup with the others. He already killed two of us." the woman suggested. "I count one, you get to cover." the short man nodded as he replied. "Now!" the man shouted before the woman could even answer back. At that same time, two arrows flew in their direction far from the place it came from a moment before. A jiffy too late the short man raised his shield and blocked one arrow but the other cut his muscular left arm deep as it swept pass through. The woman made it safely on the other side. "Ughh." the man groaned as he ran behind a tree. "We're pinned, we can't see him. Alverick! You there?" "I'm here! I can't confirm where he is, I tried to peek but luckily I jerked back and a dagger went flying." Alverick laughed. "It would've hit my eye if I didn't remember he knew where I was." Alverick is a tree away from the short man. "How can he see us?" "The situation isn't looking good, we should flee. Focus on not getting killed, regrouping is of top priority. Where's Lynda?" the short man said not too loud and not too faint. "I saw her run past that tree." He pointed at a tree ten yards away and as soon as Alverick said it, the woman yelled a battlecry and they heard two sharp sounds of blades clashing. The two men rushed to help their companion. At last they saw her silhouette carefully walking backwards. She deflected a flying dagger but a second one hit her left arm and a third one below her rib cage. She moaned in pain and dropped her sword. A dagger would have hit her chest if the short man didn't block it with his shield. They pulled her behind a tree and the two men stood guard on both sides. "Ah. These hurt so much." Lynda groaned as she took a dagger off her arm. "These aren't poisoned, are they? I can't feel... Poison... Ahhhh." She moaned painfully as she pulled the second dagger out. Alverick helped her press her wounds as she took pieces of clothes to bandage them. "You're not dead. I'm amazed you held on." Alverick told her. "She would've been if I hadn't blocked that last dagger." "You should've run away. Must I yell 'Run!' to have made it clear? Dimwits?" Lynda laughed. "Hoh? That's an error on our part." "How are we going to get out of here? He's set on killing us, isn't he?" the short man asked. "Hm.. He might be circling in on us now. We should move carefully rather than stay." "I don't know but he could've escaped the way things are going. There really must be something going on." Alverick said. The three of them carefully circled the tree. "He's raising a kid. He must have wanted to warn his kid or something." Lynda suddenly whispered. "What?" the short man said. "I overheard our payors talking that he was supposed to kill an important woman and her child in Pendor. He reported that he killed both of them but he actually took the child and raised it. That's why he disappeared years ago." Lynda explained. "What actually made him do that?" Alverick laughed. "We're walking the edge for a man raising a kid? Damn nobles." "I heard that the kid might actually be a successor to the throne of Pendor. That must be why our payors are prominent nobles." the woman said. "They only told a few of our companions about the kid and to kill him upon confirmation." "That makes sense." the short man said. "But why must he kill us?" "Pride? No?" Silence befell the night once again. Only the wind has dared to make noise and give away its position. They heard a bow suddenly stretched from not so far away. The three of them ducked in time and took cover at the other side of the tree as arrows hit the place where they were seconds ago. They ran as they thought the tree would act as cover. Lynda realized that the bow wasn't used stealthily but was rather on the purpose of lowering their guards. It would've been better to cover their vitals and block the attacks slowly but surely. "It's a trap! Get cover!" Lynda shouted but it was already too late. One. Two. Three daggers found their way on the short man's back before he could turn around and raise his shield. They were carefully aimed; the chain mail wasn't a protection in the eyes of a veteran beast. His death was swift. "Mack? Mack! Damn! He made us show our backs to him." Lynda cursed and she started to bleed again. Alverick was already holding Mack's shield, prepared to block incoming attacks. He never did expect that the killer would actually show himself. ~ "These people are experts. I already broke a sweat in this damn cold. Now, where did I put my gloves?" the man asked himself as he wiped his forehead with his left hand. He coughed a few times, as if to regain some confidence or conviction. "One last man standing, eh?" He walked slowly towards the two remaining assassins. "Put down the shield, my friend. You ain't cut out for that." he shouted. "Hoh?" Alverick gripped Mack's shield firmly. "Drop your weapons and we got a deal." "Hold on to your shield then." the man said. "Can I just ask a few things? You know you can ask me some too for fairness' sake." "I never thought you'd be the type to enter negotiations, sir?" Lynda asked. "You're in no position to do that." "Calm down, sweetie. I can learn a thing or two before I die, can't I? Ah!" the man groaned as he put his hand on his wounds. "Or you can learn a thing or two before you die." Both Lynda and Alverick frowned as they felt the clear dominance their adversary is showing. "I'm just glad you didn't hit a vital part, madame." the man said as he looked at his bloodied hand. "Everything happened in a matter of seconds and you knew it was me. You must be better than most Noldor nobles!" Lynda was astonished. "You're more than worthy of the rumors, sir.. Zekar." "Ahhh. I haven't heard someone call me by that name in ages." the man said wistfully. "I usually go by Larse right now, Larse Keen-eye. Not that you need to know." "I'm sorry, Alverick." "Lynda!" Alverick shouted in confusion. "I can't fight in my condition; he injured my good arm pretty bad and it seems like he already knows all my tricks." Lynda coughed up blood. Alverick cursed and made a fighting stance, still holding the shield covered with arrows and dagger. "I thought we could ask each others questions." Zekar frowned. "Things might work out, you know." "There's nothing for you to know. It's the usual; we only know and only need to know a name." Alverick answered. "Hm-hm, I guess so. Have to ask the others, yeah I might." Zekar sighed. Alverick went slowly beside Lynda and stood in front of her. "At least try to run." he said in a low voice. Zekar smiled. "Well then, business." He moved backwards so fast that it looked like he's floating in his cloak. The sudden action surprised both Lynda and Alverick. Alverick charged, following Zekar while Lynda tried to flee. As Zekar was starting to fade in the dark, going farther from the two, he threw a dagger with deadly accuracy. It swept past through the shield just a whisker away, finding it's place at Lynda's shoulder. "You dropped your shield a little lower!" Zekar taunted Alverick. And then Zekar stopped backing away and drew his short sword. The action surprised Alverick yet again but regained his composure as fast as he lost it. When he was near enough, he threw his shield and took a new stance for combat, blade to blade. Everything happened so fast. Alverick could only follow Zekar's movement for three mere seconds. Zekar moves like a floating snake, parrying Alverick's initiated thrust with the slightest movement and effort sliding the sword's blade against Alverick's creating a shrilling sound. Alverick tried to follow up and swung with his weapon's blunt side as Zekar close in on him. Zekar parried with his left arm, something hard was hit. Alverick tried to kick but Zekar was already one step ahead, using the force that hit his left arm to turn his body around before the kick hit him. Alverick could only feel his kick brush against Zekar's cloak and received a hard counter blow from his opponent's elbow to his chest. The last thing Alverick saw, as he staggered backwards, is Zekar's graceful movement, pivoting around a second time, building the momentum to throw the dagger he was hiding in his left hand. The dagger stabbed his right eye and he died shortly thereafter. Zekar remained in his place for a while, listening for other possible dangers. The cold finally caught up to him. "Haaaah. I can really feel I'm getting old." Zekar heaved a big sigh as he took Alverick's thick gloves. The first fight is over and the night is just starting. It would be a very long one. He walked slowly towards Lynda's body, lying in the cold snow. The woman is panting heavily, bleeding. "She's still alive. I really am losing my touch." Zekar murmured to himself. Is this Deja Vu? He thought, as he realized something like this happened before. He stood there for a while, hands on his waist, watching as the red blood covers the snow, thinking about something, recollecting the past. "Aaaah." he finally spoke. "I must've gone really soft." ~ Streaks of oranges and blues are starting to creep up the sky. The silent dawn provides the light that the past night didn't have. Zekar is standing atop a hill beside the trunk of a tree cut down several months ago. Behind him is a small shack with a chimney on top. He watched silently as the sky is filled with colors other than black. The winter is certainly coming to an end. He laid out all of his weapons on the table in front of him. "Can't believe she lived." Zekar said to himself as he proceeded to go inside the shack. "Well, Kara's abilities are incredible." The man was confused, he was surprised that he repeated the same act of mercy he made during his last contract twenty years ago. He found himself amusing. Zekar frowned and let out a huge sigh. He was trying to remember what his real name was. Truth be revealed, he had already forgotten the name he had before people started to call him Zekar. He thought it was a very long time ago. Zekar approached the woman lying unconscious on the bed. He's wondering to himself, "Why did I left this one alive?" There was a total of more than a twenty of assassins. Twenty-two. But why this one? He then decided it was because the woman was left-handed, the same as he once was, and that she is a very skilled fighter. He convinced himself, it's too much of a waste to kill her. Even though she might still try to kill him and his son for the rewards. He let out a quiet laugh as he remembered his son. It has been four years since Kaizen departed for the capital. "I heard he's been making quiet a big name, being a bard at one of the capital's inns. He actually left with my lute. The nerve! Zekar made a slight grin. "He's grown into some kind of man now huh, after all his hardships. I taught him all I knew and I hope those're enough. Those kinds of thoughts invaded Zekar's mind. He started to walk towards the town. The snow covering the grass started to thin out as small rays of sunlight spans from horizon to horizon. Zekar walked down the hill, wondering how many years has it been since he found Kaizen in his mother's dying arms. What is he going to do now? The signs of winter's have been disappearing left and right. Some time this week, springtime will begin. Maybe he should visit the one who hired the assassins, just like the old times? He let out a big laugh, and with that, his long and busy night came to an end. ~ Zekar has been laughing very hard. The guards were looking at him as he went out through the town gate. Moments before, he was listening as his old acquaintance throw out a tantrum. "I won't forgive this insolence! How did those bodies get inside the castle?!" Gregory the fourth shouted angrily. "But Your Majesty, nobody said a word since one of your personal knights is pushing the cart." the castle Seneschal explained nervously. "My personal knight! And a very same personal knight is naked and tied up in the kitchen cellar?! It's Zekar! Find him! Then kill him!" King Gregory commanded as he kicked the floor in frustration, his face red in anger. "What are you laughing at?" asked by a man waiting for him outside the gates. "Greg's face was priceless. You should've seen it!" answered Zekar. The man is sitting on a white-spotted black horse. He has a light brown complexion and long, black hair slicked thoroughly to the back exceptionally in contrast with his tied beard. He wears a fierce expression as his natural, grey eyes stares intently as if saying, 'Pitiful creature.' "Tone it down would you? You're gaining attention." the man on the horse said strictly, revealing his tribal Jatu accent. As they were travelling down the road past a merchant caravan, he caught a glimpse of a young man. Across the caravan's cart of linen and dyes, Zekar noticed how he wears a very heavy clothing, maybe a disguise, as he travel to Ravenstern. Zekar smiled, "Even if that's him, I got nothing to do with him anymore." ~ From this moment forward, Zekar, who goes by the name Larse Keen-eye spent his days wandering alone throughout the continent, searching for entertainment and thrill to satisfy his curiosity and to resume the time stolen from him by his own conscience and mercy. All the while encountering paid assassins, fame-seeking bounty hunters, knight adventurers, and even slavers who know nothing about him. And after years of living by the road, a nameless knight of an outlawed order managed to defeat him which took place at one of Melitine Empire's border town, cutting off his left arm and surrendering him to the town guards, where people of "righteous" law brought him to jail back to Barclay. After hearing the good news from a spy he sent inside Barclay's Kingdom's court, King Ulric of Sarleon Kingdom immediately struck a deal with the King of Barclay. Prisoner Larse Keen-eye for twenty thousand denars, a deal that has been the talk of everyone from the sister continents for two whole months. Larse was then immediately shipped to Kingdom of Sarleon and there he spent his remaining years in monotonous and repetitive days of torture and maltreatment before those wretched nobles decided to end his life. Summer of year 1268, before the dawning of a new era, Larse Keen-eye, known in his prime as Zekar of the Gods, was hereby sentenced to an execution as enemy of the people and for his acts of treachery against the monarchs of Pendorian continent.